


Mixed Messages

by WastingYourGum



Series: October 2018 Mystrade Prompt Challenge [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 07:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16154234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WastingYourGum/pseuds/WastingYourGum
Summary: It's early, it's freezing, there's a dead body.Perfect opportunity for a spot of matchmaking - if you're Sherlock Holmes.





	Mixed Messages

**Author's Note:**

> For the October Mystrade Prompt Challenge on Tumblr (@mystradepromptchallenge). See end note for the actual prompt.

Greg stood by the security cordon at the crest of the ridge, watching his breath curl out into the air like the smoke he desperately wished it was.

The glittering, ice-covered woodland setting below him was taking on a hint of pink as the first rosy fingers of dawn appeared in the eastern sky to his left. Under other circumstances he might have found it quite pretty but the partially disinterred body at the bottom of the hollow - and the fact it was at least a thousand degrees below "witch's tit" - made it a much less appealing place to be at 7am on a late November morning.

The frost-rimed leaf litter crunched underneath his feet as he stamped them a few times to try and get some feeling back into his toes.

Sally Donovan waved at him from the bottom of the slope. His radio beeped a few seconds later.

Greg reluctantly un-hunched his shoulders and lifted his ear lobes above the level of his scarf. "Lestrade, go ahead."

"Forensics say it's going to take hours to get the body out of the ground. It's frozen solid."

"It's not the only one," Greg muttered.

He could see Sally glancing down at her notebook as she delivered her update. "No ID of any kind found on the body. Label on the jacket is Marks and Spencer so not likely to trace him that way. Fingers are still frozen but they'll take prints as soon as they thaw a bit."

Greg turned away from the scene as he heard a car approaching. A large black saloon car rumbled its way up the access road, shattering frozen puddles under its tyres.

"Dogs unit say they'll be here to join the sweep once it gets properly light," Sally continued. "No MisPers reported overnight anywhere near matching the description..."

The saloon's driver got out and opened the rear door. Mycroft Holmes appeared from within, wearing a heavy overcoat, perfectly arranged scarf and a frown.

The ice cold and breath-takingly beautiful surroundings fitted him perfectly.

"...and Sherlock says he's babysitting."

Mycroft glanced around, locked eyes with Greg and started striding towards him.

Greg's temporarily lust-distracted brain caught up with his ears. "Wait, he said what?"

"He can't come because he's babysitting," Sally repeated.

"Ah hell. John's at that thing in Carlisle. I forgot."

"...but," Sally continued, "If the body has the top of his left ring finger missing--"

"Which it does - but I never even _mentioned_ that so how the heck--"

"...then don't worry about it."

"Don't _worry_ about it?"

"That's what he said."

Mycroft had reached the tape where Greg was standing. "Where is he?" he demanded.

"Hang on, Donovan." Greg released the button on his radio. "The… body?" he asked.

"Sherlock. He claimed there was something here that requires my immediate attention."

"We've got a frozen corpse who's missing the top of his left ring finger if that's any help."

"He's not here, is he?" Mycroft rolled his eyes. "This is his childish idea of a practical--" His gaze snapped back to Greg. "His left ring finger?"

"Yes."

"Dark hair, approximately 40 years old, five foot eight inches tall, 180 pounds?"

"Yes…"

Mycroft beckoned to his driver and whispered a few words into the man's ear before turning back to Greg. "Thank you, Inspector. My team will take things from here."

"What?"

"This man is of interest to national security. The case will be taken out of your hands."

"Right. One of those."

"I'm afraid so. It seems Sherlock was right. What was his message for me by the way?"

"Sorry?"

"He said you would have something for me. 'You'll want Lestrade when you get there. Ask him what I said', was the message left for me."

"He said if the man was missing that bit of that finger I didn't need to worry. Guess he was right."

"Is that all?"

Greg held up his radio again and hit the Call button. "Donovan?"

"Boss."

"Did Sherlock say anything else?"

"Well…"

"Anything at all."

She sighed. "And I quote, 'If he asks, tell Lestrade I'm sending him something he loves that should help him with the case' - I'm hoping that means there's some coffee on the way.."

Greg blinked a few times.

Mycroft did not. His face seemed slightly pinker than it had been a few seconds earlier, though that may have been the cold, or the advancing dawn…

"If he has sent some, I'd kill for a cup," Sally prompted.

"You don't have any coffee in that car, do you?" Greg asked, desperately.

"No, I don't." Mycroft replied.

"Sorry, Sally. Start packing up - the security services are taking over this one."

"Thank God for that. I think frostbite is setting in."

Greg slid his radio back onto his belt and cleared his throat.

"I, I, I mean, when Sherlock says 'something I love' I'm er, I'm sure he means… er..."

Mycroft interrupted him. "Sherlock said I'd want you when I got here - he was entirely correct."

"Sorry?"

"I did want you when I got here. I want you every time I see you. I've always wanted you, ever since we first met… so, if the 'something you love' is..."

"Is you, yes. Has been for a while," Greg admitted with enormous relief.

Mycroft nodded. "As for your other love - I believe we passed a coffee shop just before the park entrance. Would you care to join me, Inspector? I shall, of course, have some delivered to your team here as well."

"That's very kind, thank you."

"You're welcome."

As they approached the car, Mycroft stood aside to let Greg enter first and to allow him to speak to his driver. "Please contact my brother and tell him, 'Message received and understood.' Thank you."

"Yes, Mr Holmes."

The car pulled away back down the frozen road.

Mycroft leaned across and turned the car's heating up.

Greg relaxed back into the seat and smiled at him.

Things were warming up nicely...

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt generated at 9am, October 1st, 2018
> 
>  **Your dialogue:**  
>  "Wait, he said what?"
> 
>  **The circumstances...**  
>  at a crime scene  
> just before dawn


End file.
